The End of a Love: Part 2
by 4luv4evr428
Summary: **Read this story AFTER Pt. 1; PART 1 IS RATED M** Written in partnership with FF user GeneaLady...thank you for your inspiration and your own talent! The family says goodbye.


I.

May flowers were blooming in the window box outside Lucy's and Ricky's bedroom. Lucy stood at the window, breathing in the fragrance of the small violets in the box and enjoying the early morning sunshine. The air was already warm and sweet, and she was awake early.

She looked behind her at Ricky, asleep still. He seemed to have aged so much since February, his hair almost completely gray with only streaks of the raven waves she was so used to looking at. His skin had gathered a few more wrinkles, and his breathing was considerably more labored. He tired easily and his voice had been silenced from singing. The mornings were noticeably void of the harmonies that flooded his daily showers.

Rick had taken on the full time task of managing the club and performing between the hired acts. It was a job that he loved and had been primed for since he was a boy, but he hated the circumstances that promoted him to the responsibility prematurely.

Lucy sat next to her sleeping husband. Even in the face of his decline, she was resolutely in denial that he would leave her. Rick occasionally attempted to talk to her about being prepared for the future, but she would hear none of it and he didn't press her. After several tries, he decided that the only one who could approach the subject was his father, and Rick trusted that he would know when she was ready to talk.

As Lucy watched Ricky, he stirred and his eyes began to open slowly. As he took a deep breath, he erupted into a fit of coughing and sat up to allow more air into his lungs. Lucy rubbed his back as his breathing calmed and she spoke softly to him. "Are you alright?"

Ricky turned to her with warm brown eyes that hadn't changed at all. "Yes, darlin'. Good mornin'."

Lucy smiled as she leaned toward him and kissed his lips gently. "Are you hungry?"

"No…not right now."

Lucy looked at him disapprovingly. "You need to eat. You need to keep your strength up if you're going to feel better."

Ricky closed his eyes a moment, deep in thought and troubled.

Lucy touched his arm. "What is it, honey?"

He sighed before continuing. "It's all my fault…"

Lucy's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

Ricky touched her face. "Lucy…I'm dyin' and it's my fault."

"You AREN'T dying! Ricky, you aren't!" She shook her head and looked into his eyes.

"Lucy, I'm not fine. The treatments aren't workin'." Ricky ran his fingers along her skin. "The time is comin' and we have to face it. But if I'd never taken up that stupid habit…"

Lucy shook her head and wrapped her arms around the man she loved more than anyone, next to the younger version of him that she'd given birth to. "Ricky, don't blame yourself, it isn't your fault. I don't blame you and your son doesn't blame you. We love you."

"Lucy, you have to promise me you'll stop smokin'. You hafta be around for Little Ricky. He's bein' brave right now, but if he loses you, too, it'll kill 'im. Promise me."

Tears welled up in Lucy's eyes. It had been years since he referred to their son as "Little" Ricky and it touched her heart. She held back her tears, whispering. "I promise, Ricky." She stood up and went to the dresser, gathering a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the top drawer. Ricky watched as she dropped them into the small trash can near her vanity and returned to his side. "I'll get rid of the cigarettes, the lighter, everything. Only, you can't be dying. I don't want to go on without you."

Ricky kissed her forehead and smelled her hair. "You have to go on, Lucy. I'm not goin' yet, but when it's time, I want to know you're ok. I'm makin' sure you'll have enough to care for you. And you'll have Little Ricky."

Lucy looked into his eyes. "He'll be moving out and making his life. Someday, he'll be married. We're supposed to be old together."

"Maybe you'll meet someone after I've gone…" The words left a bitter taste in Ricky's mouth as he felt jealousy of this hypothetical man. Tears formed in his eyes.

Lucy shook her head. "Ricky…do you remember when we met? How we talked for hours? How we were together every day? How you proposed and how we ran off to get married?" Ricky kissed her, remembering as she went on. "Do you remember all the times we had, all the trouble I've gotten into?" Lucy giggled and ran her fingers in his hair. "Do you remember how full of joy we were when we were expecting our baby? How we always protected him and adored him? Do you remember the way we kiss? The way we make love?"

Ricky nodded, making note of every detail in her face. "I remember all those thins. You are my whole life."

Lucy's fingertips traced Ricky's lips lovingly. "I've had all those experiences with you, Ricky. No other man can come and take a heart that will belong to you as long as it keeps beating." Her voice trailed off and she looked into his eyes silently.

II.

It was late June. Rick opened the door for the doctor, who walked upstairs briskly. In the last four months, Ricky had declined, slowly at first. But now he was very bad. He insisted, however, that he be allowed to remain in his home. Lucy and Rick were happy to oblige.

This morning, Ricky was barely breathing. Rick knew it was the end, but his mother was insistent that he would get better.

Rick opened the bedroom door with the doctor right behind him. Ricky was in bed with Lucy sitting beside him, cradling him in her arms. His normally tan skin was pale and colorless. Shallow breaths passed his lips and he only opened his eyes slightly every few minutes.

The doctor examined him and listened to his heart. "Rick, can I have a word with you out in the hall?"

Rick looked to his mother, who nodded silently. Out in the hall, the doctor looked at Rick gravely. "I'm so sorry, but there's nothing I can do. He will likely pass today, within the next few hours…perhaps less."

Rick's face was stricken to hear out loud what he had suspected. He choked back tears. "When he speaks, it's only in Spanish…"

The doctor nodded. "That's not unheard of. At this time, there is a lack of oxygen and a buildup of toxins in his body. He has probably lost his English and may stop speaking altogether soon. He won't remain conscious long. I will stay and monitor him if you like."

Rick nodded slowly, digesting the information. "Yes. Please."

"I'm going to get some things from my car…" The doctor headed downstairs and Rick turned back to the bedroom.

When he entered, Lucy was talking to Ricky. His eyes were open, looking at her; Rick could tell instantly that he was fighting to understand her, but could not.

"Mom…" Rick sat beside them and touched her arm gently as Ricky's eyes shifted to him. "The doctor says there isn't much time left, Mom. Dad probably doesn't remember English and he won't be aware of us soon. Do you want me to tell him something?"

Lucy began to cry as she held Ricky and stroked his hair. With great effort, he placed his hand on hers, looking at her again. Lucy looked at her son with great pain in her eyes. "Please, Ricky…tell him that I love him. I always have and I always will. Only him."

Rick sighed softly and touched his father's arm. "Papa…" Ricky's eyes traced back to his son. "Ella dice que te ama. Que siempre te ha amado y siempre lo hara. Solo a ti."

Ricky seemed grateful for the translation and he responded slowly and softly. Rick moved closer to hear him. "Le amo siempre. Nunca hubo nadie mas que a ella. Y cuando llegue al cielo, voy a esperar a que me acompanen."

A tear rolled down Rick's cheek as he was overcome by his father's expression of love to his mother. "Oh, Dad…"

Ricky nudged his son's arm. "Decirle."

Rick looked at Lucy. "He says he loves you always. That there has never been anyone but you. That when he gets to heaven, he will wait for you to join him."

Tears streamed down Lucy's face as she held him close to her and kissed his head.

Ricky touched Rick. "Mi hijo…"

Rick looked into his father's eyes. "Si, Papa…"

"Continuar mi musica. Asegurese de que su madre esta bien. Te quiero mucho y estoy orgulloso de el hombre que eres."

"Gracias, Papa. Te quiero mucho y prometo. Tu eres mi heroe."

The doctor entered the room quietly, another bag of supplies in his hands. He looked at Lucy with concern. "Mrs. Ricardo, have you eaten anything today? Have you slept at all?"

The volume of Lucy's voice remained hushed, but she was emphatic in her rejection of the doctor's suggestion. "Take a nap?! This man has been devoted to me for 33 years and you want me to take a nap?!"

The doctor lowered his eyes. "It's not my intention to make light of the situation, Mrs. Ricardo, I'm simply-"

Lucy hissed back at him. "I don't care what your intentions are!"

When his mother didn't move, Rick took her hands in his, kneeling in front of her. "I promise you, if there's even the smallest change, I'll come and get you right away. Just take one hour to rest. Please."

Lucy's eyes shot back to Rick with the look of a mother whose young child had just smart-mouthed her. "What's the matter with you? I can understand it from him, but how can you tell me to leave your father here and go take a nap like nothing's happening? Have you gone…loco?!" Lucy waved a hand flippantly.

Rick stood up slowly, taken by complete surprise at his mother's reprimand, to say nothing of his shock that she had remembered a word in Spanish that wasn't "gracias". He walked away from her before turning around to face her, and as she looked at him, she was struck by the look on his face. She could see that he was angry, but working to contain it. She had seen that look on Ricky many times and the resemblance took her breath away.

Rick's voice was hushed, as well. "There's nothing the matter with me and I haven't gone crazy. If Dad was able to, he'd tell you the same thing I'm telling you."

Lucy looked down at her husband, who seemed to have fallen asleep and was breathing slowly. She looked at Rick again, his eyes fixed on her. Rick's Cuban half was undeniable, but in the same way she had never given up that easily with Ricky, she wasn't about to give in to the junior. "Don't forget who the parent is here, Enrique Alberto Ricardo Jr…"

Just as Rick's lips were hardening into a firm line, Ricky's eyes opened slightly and he lifted his hand a few inches from the bed. His voice was barely more than a whisper. "Lucy, bring some tulips here."

Lucy and Rick looked at each other in stunned silence. He walked back to his father's bedside as Lucy stroked Ricky's hair and looked down at him with tears of happiness in her eyes. She leaned close to him, whispering gently. "Tulips, Ricky? Why tulips?"

"Me recuerdan a ti." Ricky's voice was vanishing rapidly. Lucy looked at Rick, who was sitting in front of them again. "He says they remind him of you." Lucy looked down at Ricky again to find him gazing at her. "I love you," Ricky's hoarse voice released the words of his heart to her in the language she knew.

Lucy touched his face, grateful for the fleeting English words that had returned to his lips. "I love you, too, darling."

Rick watched as Lucy lowered Ricky's head gently onto the pillow, stood up slowly and turned to him. "Ricky, don't leave him."

"I won't."

Lucy rushed out to the garden as the doctor sat in a far corner of the room, skimming through a book after having organized his supplies on top of a nearby table.

Rick pulled another chair close to Ricky's bedside and sat. He watched his father lay with his eyes closed, his chest shuddering up and down with the difficult breaths he'd been taking all morning. A flood of memories rushed into his mind. Ricky had done most everything a father does with his son, and beyond. They played catch and wrestled and rough-housed the way men and boys do. But they also sang and drummed and performed together often. And sometimes, Rick would watch his father rehearse with the orchestra.

They would speak to each other in Spanish as though it were their own private language. Sometimes, when Lucy would become overprotective of her son and thwart his boyish activities, Ricky would overhear, rustle the boy's hair and say, "Ir y tener cuidado. No se lo digas a tu madre."

And although Ricky had a ferocious temper, it was never more than a verbal lashing in Spanish. He was quick to get over his anger and quicker to express love. Rick never truly feared him. To the contrary, he idolized him.

As Rick looked at his father's face, remembering all these things, his eyes filled with tears. He had been trying so desperately hard to have strength for his mother that, in her absence, he felt free to release his sorrow. And since noticing that the doctor had drifted into a nap of his own in the corner, Rick's tears would be restrained no more and they rolled down his cheeks in hot succession.

Hearing Rick sniff softly, Ricky's eyes opened slowly and moved in his direction. They looked at each other, silently at first. Ricky opened his mouth to speak and Rick leaned closer. "Que eso, Papa?"

Ricky's words were uttered as firmly as his shallow breath would allow. "Mi hijo, voy a vivir en ti. Cuando tu madre me dio a luz un hijo, eso era la respuesta a mis oraciones. Lo entiendes?"

Rick nodded. "Si, Papa."

As Ricky drifted back into sleep, Rick watched over him, vowing to live up to those prayers and be the man that Ricky had raised him to be.

Suddenly, Lucy walked up behind him and placed a vase full of beautiful, fragrant tulips onto the table next to the bed. She took her place again on the bed and cradled Ricky in her arms as he slept. She reached one hand out and touched Rick's hand, which rested on the bed nearby.

Rick looked up at her as she began to speak to him softly. "Ricky, darling, I'm sorry that I snapped at you earlier. You're a good son and I know you're taking care of me."

Rick softened and put his other hand on top of hers. "I'm sorry, too, Mom. I guess we're both a little upset."

Lucy nodded and the silently kept watch over Ricky.

III.

Ricky's words to Rick were the last he was able to speak. It seemed that he had spent his remaining energy on them, and by late afternoon, he was breathing more slowly and seemed to be in pain.

The doctor examined him again as Lucy held him and Rick sat nearby.

"It's close." The doctor laid down his stethoscope. "I can give him some pain medicine. That will keep him comfortable until the time comes."

Rick and Lucy looked at each other and Rick's words were heavy. "And once he receives that medicine…he won't hear us again?"

The doctor looked at Ricky. "I can't say for certain. More than likely, he will be unconscious."

Rick stood up and left the room. "Give me a few minutes."

The doctor was preparing the medicine as Rick returned with his guitar and some sheet music. It was music that Ricky had written for him and sent to him while he was in the army.

As Rick began to play, Ricky's eyes opened and he had a hint of a smile. Lucy kissed him on the side of his temple.

The doctor injected the pain medicine slowly. "He'll be more comfortable now."

Ricky closed his eyes again, his breathing less labored.

IV.

Three hours later, Ricky started to gasp. The doctor came back to the room, Lucy holding him, Rick standing over him.

The doctor checked Ricky's pulse. He looked at Lucy. "Mrs. Ricardo, I'm sorry but…these are his last breaths."

Lucy sobbed, fiercely whispering "I love you" repeatedly in Ricky's ear.

Rick knelt down and rested his head on Ricky's arm. "Papa, te quiero…"

When Ricky's chest failed to rise again, the doctor checked for a pulse; finding none, he silently noted the time.

Lucy turned Ricky's face to hers and kissed his lips. They were cold and still and she knew he was gone.

V.

Two days later, Ethel was making coffee in the kitchen. She had offered to make breakfast, but no one was hungry. She sipped the coffee, dressed for the funeral already, as Rick came downstairs in a black suit and tie. His guitar was slung over his back.

Ethel poured him a cup of coffee. "Thanks, Aunt Ethel," he responded quietly.

She set the pot down. "Does your mother need help?"

Rick shook his head. "She's dressed, she's just-" The doorbell interrupted him. The limo had arrived to bring them to the funeral home.

Hearing it, Lucy came downstairs, dressed in black, her hair swept up under a black hat and veil.

Rick opened the door and the driver tipped his hat in greeting. Rick took his mother's arm and walked out with her, Ethel close behind.

VI.

Crowds of people had gathered for the funeral, from friends to musicians to colleagues to fans. Some press had gathered as well. The staff of the funeral home ushered Rick, Lucy and Ethel into a private room where Ricky lay.

The director came in quietly. "We're going to close the casket and travel to the cemetery. If you'd like, you may say goodbye before it's closed."

Ethel sat and motioned to Rick. "Go on, dear."

Rick approached the casket and looked down at his father. He touched his sleeve. "Dad…" Rick spoke very quietly and no one behind him could hear. "Please guide me and watch me. I promise you that Mom will be cared for. I know you worried about that." Rick started to cry. "I love you, Dad, and I'll miss you."

Rick turned away and met his mother's embrace behind him. She whispered to him. "He's so proud of you. From the moment he knew you were coming, you were the light of his life."

Lucy let him go slowly and he stood away as she went to Ricky. She looked at him lying peacefully. He was very handsome; his hair combed back, dressed in one of his best suits, his hands resting in front of him. A beloved pair of maracas rested at his side and an old photo of him and Lucy holding baby Ricky was tucked in the pocket of his jacket.

She looked at Rick. "Darling, please reach in my purse and give me the ring inside."

Rick opened the purse and withdrew Ricky's simple gold wedding band, which Lucy had held since he was taken from home the night he died.

He gave it to Lucy sadly, knowing that her loss was unimaginable to him. He stepped away as Lucy turned back to Ricky. She slipped the ring on the finger of his left hand, from which he almost never removed it.

"Ricky, darling, I'm only saying goodbye for now, because we'll be together when it's time for me to join you. I love you."

_Postscript_

_The young man sat before a gleaming orchestra, music surrounding him like a beautiful blanket. He had never seen light and color the way it lit up the sky here, and always the eyes of everyone there were on the entrance. The stream of people entering this club was never ending. And so he sat and he waited; happy, yes, and at peace. But waiting._


End file.
